


A Crash Bang Beginning

by respoftw



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, sports AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 02:39:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11705082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/respoftw/pseuds/respoftw
Summary: Rodney really should have taken note of what day it was.  An AU meet-cute.





	A Crash Bang Beginning

The sunshine was unexpected. Rodney squinted into the light, his mouth crooked downwards in annoyance. Absently, he wondered what time it was but his phone had died approximately three whiteboards ago and, honestly, he wasn't even sure what _day_ it was. It was Monday when he had his flash of brilliance, he knew that, but he wasn't entirely sure how long it had been since then. The grit in his eyes and the fuzz on his teeth suggested that it had been days. He remembers at least three naps on the corduroy couch in the break room but that didn't exactly narrow the time frame down.

Rodney shrugged the mystery off. His mind was occupied by bigger things. Better things. Things that could win him a Nobel prize.  And make the world a better place.  He wasn't in it purely for the glory, despite what his ex said.  He pulled the door of the building he rented lab space in closed, adjusted the strap of the grey messenger bag slung across his chest and stepped out into the California sunshine.

Right into the path of a Lycra clad cyclist.

They collided hard and fast. Rodney scrambled frantically to keep his messenger bag (and the laptop in it) from hitting the ground but all concern for the bag vanished as he landed awkwardly on his wrist and felt something pop.

Rodney’s teeth ground together as he tried hold in his scream of pain. He'd never broken a bone before and, bizarrely, his first thought was that he really ought to apologise to Jeannie for making light of the broken ankle she’d gotten during that one winter skiing trip when she was eight. Of course, a broken wrist would hurt more than a broken ankle. It must do.

“Actually,” a voice drawled from somewhere behind Rodney, replying to the words that Rodney had apparently spoken out loud, “ankle’s way worse. Trust me.”

Rodney groaned as he pushed up with his good arm and twisted around to see the very same cyclist who'd just crashed into him extricating himself from his bike.

“You!” Rodney gesticulated as wildly as he could while cradling his right wrist to his body. “You knocked me down, you ass. You could have killed me. I could have hit my head,” he felt himself pale at just the thought of it, “I could have been brain damaged. Do you have any idea what a loss to science that would have been? Oh my God, you could have ended the world.”

Lycra clad stranger snorted at that and Rodney felt himself bristle with outrage, spine straightening, the pain in his wrist suddenly diminished in the face of such disregard.

“Listen, pal,” he spat, “I’ll have you know that I am working on a theory that could solve the energy crisis and -“ Rodney broke off as the ringing of bells assaulted his ears. Bewildered, he turned towards the sound to see a - well he didn't know what the term for a huge number of bikes was. A flock? A murder? A crapload? Whatever the term, there were a _lot_ of bikes streaming down the street.

The riders called out as they passed, variations of “You ok, Shep?” and “Bad luck” with one or two “suck it’s,” tossed in.

There were a couple of cars trailing the bikes and - was that a camera crew? One of the cars pulled up alongside them and a medic jumped out. Rodney knew he was a medic because he was wearing a neon orange windbreaker with a Red Cross on the sleeve. As if he wasn't in enough pain with his wrist without being assaulted with that colour combination.

“What were you thinking, ye daft eejit?”

It took Rodney a moment to realise the doctor was talking to him rather than the actual eejit who'd run him over.

“He ran into me!” Rodney defended himself. “And he broke my wrist. You're a doctor, right? Shouldn't you be helping me?”

“There's been signs up about this race for the past two weeks. And the roads been closed since yesterday.” The Doctor managed to berate him soundly without taking his attention off the cyclist, who Rodney assumed was called Shep. Now that Rodney thought about it, he did recall the signs warning that the Tour of California bike race was going to take over their town for a day.

“Give him a break, Carson,” Shep interrupted with an easy smile. “Guy’s gonna save the world. Something about an alternative energy source. You should take a look at his wrist, I heard it snap, sounded bad.”

The doctor - Carson - pursed his lips in disapproval. “Are you sure that wasn't your own collarbone you heard snapping? That's the second time this year, John. You can kiss the Tour goodbye, no way are you going to be healed by then.”

John did a small half shrug and now that Rodney was looking he could see the lines of pain in the other man's face. Feeling a little bit sheepish, Rodney crept forward until he was hovering awkwardly above John's prone form.

“I, uh, I've been locked in my lab for the past…few days? A week? I, ah, I didn't mean to get you hurt. Is it bad? I mean, of course it's bad. But, are you out of the race? Does that mean that you lose your job? Ohmygod, I got you fired. You won't have any money coming in, you’ll lose your home and - -“

“Wow, you really go to the worst case scenarios, huh?”

Rodney tilted his head in acknowledgement, a half smile on his face. “It's a gift,” he said.

“Well, there are worse gifts to have, I guess.”  John let Carson give him a hand up, pulling himself to his feet. Rodney didn't quite succeed in managing to stop his eyes from roaming over the Lycra clad body as it straightened and John smirked, causing the tips of Rodney's ears to flush. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

Rodney sputtered. “Of course I do,” he lied. “You're Shep. John Shep. You…you cycle. Competitively. Like that guy, the one with only one testicle, what's his name? Aldrin? No Armstrong!”

John laughed, loud and honking and dorky and damn, if Rodney's wrist didn't hurt at all anymore. “Close,” he smiled. “It's Sheppard. John Sheppard.”

“Right, of course. I knew that. McKay. Is me. I mean, I'm Dr. Rodney McKay. Nice to meet you and sorry about the broken collar bone thing.”

John waved his apology off. “So, whatta you say we let Carson take us both to hospital?” John's hand found its way to the bottom of Rodney's back as he guided Rodney towards the waiting car. This close, Rodney could smell the sweat that clung to John's skin and feel the dampness of the Lycra where it clung to John's skin.

Not trusting himself to speak and trying very hard to will away his burgeoning erection, Rodney nodded.

“Great,” John smiled. “And maybe tomorrow, we can go out for something to eat. I seem to have some unexpected free time on my hands now.”

Rodney nodded again and John’s smile turned wicked as he moved close enough to whisper in Rodney’s ear. “And, just FYI, I still have both of my testicles.”

Rodney groaned loudly and, this time, it had nothing to do with the pain in his wrist.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I actually have a whole cyclist!John thing in my head but I'm not ready to write it yet so....have some meetcute goodness to serve as an apology for the angst of my last fic! 
> 
> (I will write something longer again soon ::talks firmly to self::)


End file.
